The Ordeal
by Krys Silver
Summary: A battle of warders and Aiel during the great war


Arrows flew through the air and many men fell before the onslaught of the Aiel. It was the second day of the Siege upon the shining walls of the Tower, and the Aiel though they numbered far less had slain more men than any one war, remembered in the past. Their warriors cunning and fearless they were a force to fear. However there were some who would not concede defeat. Some such as a young Gaidin known only as Krys.  
The siege upon the tower had been highly unsuccessful considering the  
might of the one power wielded by the Aes Sedai, and the pure undying  
loyalty, tenacity, and skill of the Gaidin. However even with all of this  
on their side thousands within the ranks of the tower died that day.  
Still the Aiel came. Shouting and screaming their war cries and for the  
blood of Laman.  
  
With the wardings in place and the soldiers set. The Aes Sedai and a good  
portion of the troops left the tower to face the onslaught at the gates.  
This however was somewhat of a mistake assuming that the Aiel could not  
pass them. However the then Master at arms not being a fool ordered a  
small rear guard to be positioned at the tower just in case. This small  
guard troupe consisted of six Gaidin.  
  
Krys having been the one with the most experience of the six was left in  
charge of this group. As they stood their ground with their color  
shifting fancloth cloaks billowing in the breeze that blew over the tower  
grounds, their faces all as stone as they scanned the perimeter with the  
heightened senses granted from the concentration of the void. Six men who  
had been placed in charge of the safety of the White Tower from an army  
of thousands of screeching fearsome Aiel warriors. Fear played no part to  
these men as their was none to be had while wrapped within the safety and  
cold of the void. Though it was there, on the edges of that "nothingness"  
gnawing at them, questioning them, whether they truly thought such a  
small rear guard could even hope to survive let alone succeed against  
such an enemy.  
  
Brandlyn Weirn let his eyes scan over the grounds before he voiced the  
question all of them had thought. "Do we stand a chance Krys?" He was a  
short man no taller than five feet and six inches. Though he was stocky  
and had a body built like a smithy's anvil and just as hard. Eyes the  
color of too strong tea, and hair as dark as night that no matter how  
often he fixed it was always mussed. He was new to the ranks of the  
Gaidin, fresh from the ranks of the students and recently bonded by an  
Aes Sedai of the Yellow Ajah, and still getting used to the feelings the  
bond passed along.  
  
Krys looked to Bran as everyone called him these days. The eyes of one  
who was intent on succeeding no matter the cost. "We do. As long as none  
here slack off and keep an eye out, rather than asking fools questions."  
His eyes though they had moved to look at Bran always scanned..even past  
Bran to the grounds over his shoulder. "Keep your eyes wide men, and your  
senses keen. An Aiel is as sneaky as the Jack o' the shadows himself, and  
twice as mean. I know you have not had sleep in two nights now, but you  
must remain vigilant." He said with a stern voice coated in ice from the  
emotionless of the void. His eyes never letting up in their search for  
those who would dare attack his home.  
  
It was Karnen Brandtstoke who had spotted the first signs of movement  
within the grounds, gliding over roof tops and nearly as invisible as a  
spectre in your nightmares. Karnen flexed his somewhat lanky arms as he  
moved quick as a whip crack and had his blade in hand. "They come." he  
said simply, and pointed in the direction of the moving form on the  
rooftop. The six men looked and saw the vague shape of what Karnen  
pointed out. Without a word all the men drew their swords, from Darryl  
Colinglin who drew the two short swords he used with deadly efficiency,  
to Carter al' Kwens A noble's son from Andor who drew his large bastard  
sword and wielded it with both hands.  
  
In a moment as they watched the form glide over the rooftops awaiting  
what they knew would come from that side. Krys looked to his opposite  
side only to tell Marten, a small youth no more than 17 winters and  
possessing of a speed and reflexes unknown to men for ages, to draw and  
nock his bow, that he saw the real threat. More than twenty black veiled  
Aiel he estimated were coming down from rooftops and darkened alleys  
heading straight for them to break through the doors and get at their  
goal within the walls of the tower. "Marten, your bow! Fire now. There!"  
He pointed out the onrush of men and turned quickly back to the one who  
was running across a rooftop, who suddenly stopped as if he had received  
a signal and slid off of the rooftop..to soon be followed by the nine  
unseen Aiel that had followed him.  
  
Krys' eyes went wide at the situation they were in. Attacked from both  
sides from what he could see as thirty men. All fearless of death and  
therefore all the more deadly. Taking note of what appeared to be four of  
the Aiel kneeling, he quickly instructed his men to back up into the  
overhang of the great entry doors of the tower, only just in time to  
avoid the broad tipped arrows which sailed past and either sunk into the  
ground or broke upon Ogier crafter stone. His men were stone faced but  
they showed sweat upon their brows. They could feel the fear gnawing at  
their sanctity of the void though they were all stubborn men of their own  
right and would refuse it to the bitter end.  
  
Krys looked at the five men with him and as they only had a moment before  
they were upon them he made this brief. "Today, we may die. But we die  
with honor, and we do NOT die before ALL of them have fallen before us,  
not ONE will enter this tower while we stand!" With that he turned back  
to face the oncoming rush of black veiled death.  
  
Marten with his speed and reflexes nocked and fired his bow many times  
sending out a steady stream of broad heads into the oncoming rush of Aiel  
warriors. Some were felled though the ones who were not continued to run,  
regardless of the arrows protruding from their flesh. It was as if they  
felt no pain, knew no limit to their endurance, and would not give up.  
  
Karnen took out a vial of lamp oil and began ripping a piece of cloth  
from his shirt which he then put into the vial and reached for a lit  
torch on the wall. Bran looked to Karnen with unvoiced curiosity, and  
Karnen simply shrugged and lit the cloth. He let it burn down about half  
way so that it touched the oil soaking the strip of cloth and then  
without warning stepped out quickly to heave the vial at the oncoming  
force of Aiel.  
  
Krys watched it fly through the air and hit one of the running aiel.  
Through some miracle of the creator it hit something hard enough to smash  
open upon him. The resulting inferno sent the screaming man to rolling  
upon the ground, and the splash from the vial managed to set two more of  
them on fire. He nodded and steadied himself. They were so close now that  
he could hear their foot steps as they padded across the cobblestones of  
the grounds.  
  
All too quickly the Aiel were there. With whirling spears and raging  
battle cries. The Gaidin formed a defensive circle as Marten threw down  
his bow to draw his shield and sabre. The Aiel wasted no time in  
advancing on what they saw as a sure victory. Spears with a foot of steel  
clashed with various blades, the chaos of close quarters combat was upon  
them. However at least they could count on no more arrows from the enemy.  
  
Karnen with his gleaming longsword and shield fended off no less than  
three Aiel smashing into them with his shield and using his weight to add  
to the damage. His longsword flashed out removing an arm from one of the  
Aiel never to stop it's path and cleave it's way into the unfortunate  
Aiel's rib cage. As he fell another took his place stabbing at Karnen,  
though hitting the sturdy shield and bouncing harmlessly away.  
Unexpectedly the Aiel lashed out with his foot and landed a devastating  
kick to Karnen's face blinding him with the blood and tears from having  
ones nose broken. Karnen slashed blindly at the Aiel but to no avail, it  
was his yell that broke through the din of combat as two Aiel spears  
drove through his chest impaling him upon them.  
  
Darryl whirled his shortswords in graceful movements becoming a small  
cyclone of steel death. Three Aiel had fallen to his blades already, and  
he was nearly through cutting another to ribbons. Though his side was now  
open as Karnen fell and One of the Aiel managed to slip in and smash the  
haft of his spear against the side of his head. Darryl dazed from the  
blow staggered back and was nearly impaled upon the spear point of his  
attacker.  
  
However Marten was there with his shield and sabre fending off the  
attack,  
  
his lightning reflexes granting him the edge he needed. His sabre flashed  
out not once, not twice but three times, slashing through the Aiel spear,  
and then twice across the Aiel's chest opening up his body for all to  
inspect. Darryl had finally managed to come back around with blood  
dripping from his split scalp. He leapt forward once more to quickly take  
out the legs of the Aiel attempting to spear Marten through the back.  
Another Aiel fell before those two.  
  
Carter and Bran had maneuvered so that their backs were to a wall and  
they used their considerable strength to cleave more than six of the Aiel  
warriors nearly in two. Carter lept forward to join Marten and Darryl,  
seeing them in need of coverage from behind. He used his strength and his  
weight as he put it into the back of an Aiel via the focus of his  
shoulder. Knocking him aside and stunning him, with no mercy he quickly  
drove his sword through the Aiel's heart and turned back to face more of  
the onrushing Aiel.  
  
Bran with his back to the wall did well in fending off two Aiel who meant  
to severe his thread from the wheel, His broadsword clashed with the  
spears of the Aiel and when one of the Aiel kicked him in the chest he  
nearly smirked as the Aiel did next to nothing against him then quickly  
lashing out and removing the offending leg from the attacker. The second  
Aiel however did not take kindly to this, and stepped forward swinging  
his spear to knock the short but stocky man to his knees. Bran however  
managed to duck but neglected to see the feint as the Aiel's foot smashed  
into his face and broke his nose as well as removing several teeth. Bran  
fell from the attack, and the Aiel drove his spear into him impaling him  
and then without looking to make sure withdrew the spear and lept back at  
the others.  
  
Krys standing with the other three let his blade fly through the forms a  
graceful dance of death as spear and body alike were cut through and  
removed from this game of deadly chess. He was as death itself as he  
refused to acknowledge the horrendous wounds to his body he had suffered  
already. Bleeding profusely he still pressed on. Using everything at his  
disposal. Cutting a swath through the Aiel. Today he would not let them  
enter. A death rattle caught his ears as he recognized the sound of  
Darryl. A mental tally flew through his mind. Twelve more of the Aiel and  
only three of them left standing. He backed up and proceeded to continue  
backing up until he reached the door And then called to his men to fall  
back to the door. "Rally to me!" was his call. Slowly but surely Marten  
and Carter managed to get back to Krys. Their back to the door and  
bloodied from their wounds, they however refused to give in.  
  
The aiel watched them apprehensively for only a brief moment, considering  
these honorable and brave men. Who had cut down their force of over  
thirty men to now twelve. The admiration however was only brief, as their  
duty demanded them to get at the reason they had come here. They gave a  
battle cry, and surged forward.  
  
Krys watched them surge and asked that the creator keep him should he die  
this day. Though he steeled himself he was prepared to die, and would do  
so as he promised, in order to protect the White Tower from this attack.  
  
The three men, tired and injured, stood at the ready. They looked to  
eachother and understood what would happen this day. They looked to the  
onrushing enemies with a fire in their eyes and in unison they cried out  
to the heavens. "The Tower will not fall!" and surged forward to meet the  
twelve.  
  
Marten's blade and shield flashed out as a serpent attacking a larger  
foe. Carter's large sword swooped back and forth cutting a swath through  
his attackers. Krys' blade quick and deadly pierced through the hearts of  
his attackers and removed more than one head.  
  
Carter bashed into his enemies with his strength and pushed them back  
driving his large blade into his foes two lay dead at his feet and still  
there were more. One hit him from the front not a spear but a broad  
bladed knife getting too close and past his large sword. The knife  
skittered across his breast plate to drive into his unprotected collar  
area disabling his right arm. Carter would not yield as he felt his  
life's blood leaving him and grasped the Aiel about the neck crushing it  
in his large hand and they both fell to the ground, dead.  
  
Marten moved as quick as lightning back and forth holding his own his  
quick reflexes leading the way for him. crashing his sabre through spears  
and eventually piercing the brown cadin'sor to come to rest within the  
bodies of his foes. However his blade suddenly became caught within the  
body of his foe. The sabre snagged on bone and would not come free. He  
released it and drew his back up dagger knowing it to be little to no  
protection but it was something. He stood his ground, This boy, no, this  
man, who had only seen seventeen winters used his shield to fend off an  
Aiel spear and slice at the throat of his attacker. He could not turn in  
time however with all his speed and reflexes as a spear drove through his  
back and protruded from his lightly armored torso, he did not cry out but  
dropped his shield and dagger grasping the spear with his last vestiges  
of strength as he fell not letting the man who killed him have his spear  
back to kill again with it.  
  
Kris stood the last, with three of the aiel left, his vision blurring  
from his loss of blood and his strength slowly leaving him. He faced the  
last three duty dictating he stand and honor guiding him to never waver  
nor retreat. He lashed out at his attackers. His blade like lightning as  
it flashed through the air before him. Severing quickly the head of one  
of his foe's and coming back with no hesitation to stab through the body  
of another, stepping forward to drive his blade hilt deep into the mans  
body and end his threat. He didn't feel so much as sense the spear tip as  
it sank into his side, and he turned regardless of the injury to slice  
the haft of the spear in twine kicking out to snap the knee of the last  
Aiel before him, his blade flashed out and in an upward arc cut a long  
gash across the Aiel's torso letting his entrails fall to the ground  
before him, the Aiel following soon after.  
  
Krys stood there bleeding and barely alive the void the only thing  
holding him in a state of consciousness. His eyes looked over the blood  
stained cobblestones of the towers entry way. Bodies littered the  
stairways to the great doors of the tower. Bodies not only of the Aiel,  
but of his companions. Young Marten lay in a pool of his own blood with a  
spear through him, Karnen lay dead as well, Carter, Bran, and Darryl,  
all lay there motionless. His companions, even ones he might call  
friends. All lay dead before him. A tear slid down his cheek, as the void  
crumbled and he gave way to the blessed darkness that engulfed him.  
  
The Aiel scout who had been watching said a small prayer over her fallen  
comrades, and even over the six men who had fought against them. They had  
honor, and would be sung about and have stories told of them. She would  
report it all, back to the clan chief.  
  
Epilogue:  
  
Krys awoke in his bed, washed and tended, with Bran sitting off to the  
side in a chair snoring soundly, though he knew Bran would never admit to  
it. He did not question what had happened, assuming that Bran had  
survived, and perhaps fetched help. He lay there in silence,  
contemplating the path before him and contemplating the deaths he had  
caused. 


End file.
